Chapter 80: Longing Like the Tide

“Second Brother, rest assured. The Eight Branches of the Demon Sect suffered devastating losses in the immortal-demon war ten thousand years ago—even their headquarters was breached by the Immortal Alliance. Although after ten millennia they seem to be stirring once more, they remain little more than rats scurrying through the streets, always hiding, always fleeing… I don’t believe the Vajra-Handed Ming King would dare show himself openly in the Southern Frontier. If he truly appeared, I doubt the people of the Sacred Land would let him escape,” Li Muqiu spoke with confidence. “Besides, even if the Vajra-Handed Ming King dared launch a surprise attack on our Azure Pool Sword Sect, do you think I, Li Muqiu, would cower? My Autumn Water Sword is no mere ornament. Should he appear, I would relish the chance to see if his infamous reputation is truly deserved.”

“Even so, Master Li, you must still be cautious,” Mu Chen replied, worried despite Li Muqiu’s assurances. After all, Li Muqiu was no longer the Seventeenth Brother of old; now he stood as the leader of a mighty force, and Mu Chen could only advise without pressing further.

“Rest assured, Second Brother. I will not underestimate any of the Demon Sect branches,” Li Muqiu acknowledged Mu Chen’s good intentions and agreed.

That day, Li Muqiu, Master of the Azure Pool Sword Sect, led his finest disciples to the site where the Missing Pill had vanished. The whole Southern Continent was thrown into upheaval; several major factions converged on a remote place in the Southern Frontier—a gathering rare in history, drawing the attention of the continent’s great powers.

Meanwhile, the focal figure of this affair, the beggar boy Che Wuyou, remained oblivious to the turmoil. Carrying the Missing Pill, he hurried toward Ancient River City, weary and dust-laden.

Che Wuyou’s journey was fraught with hardship. To avoid exposure, he had reluctantly killed his old horse, leaving him to travel on foot back to Ji Province. For over twenty days he pressed onward, exhausted and famished, tormented further by the strange green medicinal power in his dantian, which flared up unpredictably until the young boy nearly broke down. But he was accustomed to hardship and stubbornly endured, returning to Ji Province at last.

Che Wuyou did not know how much longer he could hold out. He feared he might one day lose himself in a crimson haze of slaughter. He now vaguely understood that this was Miao Shilin’s ultimate aim: to exact revenge on the Che family, Miao Shilin had harbored ill intentions from the start. The green potion he had forced upon Che Wuyou was meant to cultivate a weapon of carnage.

Whenever Che Wuyou considered this, terror overwhelmed him. No matter what, he must return to Ancient River City; if he didn’t, he feared he would never have the chance again.

Even if Ye Hongyu and the others no longer acknowledged him as their son, he still had to see them, to ask, face-to-face, “Why did you treat me so back then? Why did you harden your heart and give me away? Why have you been so selfish, ignoring me all these years?”

This was a fixation that had haunted him for years. He didn’t know how much longer he could endure, but he was determined to fulfill this wish before it was too late. When he reached Ancient River City, he would go to the Miao family next; he couldn’t simply let things go. If he suddenly went mad or died, Lan Zhi would never know he had been wronged. No matter what, he had to risk everything to uncover the truth.

Since Miao Shilin wanted to control him, to turn him into a killing machine, he would not let Miao Shilin have his way. If Miao Shilin schemed within his body, then Che Wuyou would expose everything, letting the entire Miao clan know what a venomous man Miao Shilin truly was.

Che Wuyou could feel the powerful green medicinal energy coiled within his dantian, and it frightened him deeply. Such immense force, comparable to the true essence of a cultivator at the Core Formation stage, was a death trap with no escape. Any attempt at breaking free might see him torn to shreds by the energy.

Given the hopelessness, he resolved to clarify everything before the end, facing death calmly. This would undoubtedly trouble Liu Lanzhi, but he could no longer worry about such things. A man’s life should not be lived in constant fear; some things, once happened, must not be avoided.

Che Wuyou trudged toward Ancient River City, wiping sweat from his brow as the city drew ever closer, his heart pounding with anticipation.

His eyes flashed red as he gazed into the distance, seeing Ancient River City slowly transform into a city of blood. Bitterly, he cursed the green medicinal energy—whatever it was, it was acting up more frequently. After walking a little further, a verdant glow enveloped his body, as if he were wrapped in an invisible green shroud.

The green energy seeped from his dantian into his body, then spread to his mind. Surges of killing intent erupted uncontrollably from his eyes… Alone, like a wounded wolf, he found a deserted corner and waited for the episode to pass.

When the attacks came, the madness and murderous impulse nearly destroyed the eleven-year-old boy. Though his mind remained clear and he knew what he was doing, he simply could not control the frenzy; even if Liu Lanzhi were there, he feared he would attack her without hesitation.

Thinking of this, cold sweat streamed down Che Wuyou’s face. Miao Shilin, the old villain, was despicable. For years, Che Wuyou had believed him to be kind, not what he had imagined. But from the very day he began training, Miao Shilin had started his scheme. He wondered if there were problems with the nameless scripture he practiced—would Miao Shilin really be so generous as to let him study such a profound art?

Recalling this, Che Wuyou remembered the night he left, when Liu Lanzhi slipped him something. In recent days, he had been too busy fleeing for his life, or perhaps he was avoiding something, but he hadn’t wanted to open the bundle or know what was inside. Now, curiosity overtook him, unstoppable as water leaking from a cracked jar. What had Lan Zhi given him?

He quickly loosened the bundle from his back. It was wrapped several times in black cloth, and as he unwrapped it, his curiosity grew. What could it be, so secretive, so carefully packaged? When he finally opened it, he was stunned.

Inside were two books and a stack of handwritten pill recipes, neatly arranged. One book bore the words “Hundred Herbs Manual,” the other, three bold characters: “Qi Huang Classic.”

For a long time, Che Wuyou stared in silence, then began flipping through the handwritten recipes. These were the formulas Liu Lanzhi had copied when teaching him alchemy, all lined up for him to study. Some he had yet to learn, but Lan Zhi had already prepared them.

Looking at the elegant handwriting and the vivid illustrations on each recipe, his eyes grew moist and his body trembled. Why was Senior Sister always so good to him? No matter when, no matter what he did, she never abandoned him, always considering his needs.

Even though everyone suspected him of murder—even though Senior Sister Lu, who was like both sister and mentor, was believed to have been killed by him—Liu Lanzhi never gave up on him. How could he have met someone so good in this life? Even if he repaid her with his life, it would not be enough.

As Che Wuyou reminisced about his years with Liu Lanzhi, his heart ached unbearably. He had never missed someone so much; if he could see her now, even if he died immediately, he would have no regrets. He wondered where she was, what she was doing.

He remembered that gloomy day, the woman standing beneath the heavens, swearing to Zhang Qing’er…

He remembered that night, when a figure in black pierced him with a sword, the look of despair in her eyes…

He remembered the day when sunlight flooded the world, and that lovely figure murmured, “Truly a rare book in the world. If not for the Qi Huang Classic, it’s hard to imagine any text in the cultivation world so wondrous.”

Looking at the Qi Huang Classic beside him—the book for which the entire cultivation world would go mad—Che Wuyou could no longer hold back his tears. Such a legendary book, coveted by all, treasured by everyone, was casually slipped into his bundle by Senior Sister.

Che Wuyou collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably for the first time in years. He howled at the sky, venting his anguish.

“I will not return to Miao Manor. Even if I am wronged by everyone—even if Senior Sister misunderstands me—I cannot go back just to prove my innocence. Even if, in this life, she never learns this secret—even if, for all my days, she never knows what Miao Shilin did to me—so be it.”

“If everything is for Senior Sister, to spare her from distress, even if I, Che Wuyou, descend forever into slaughter, become a demon despised by all, it is worth it.”